


the gentleness that comes

by andygravitee



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, knuckle cracking but in a cute way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andygravitee/pseuds/andygravitee
Summary: Serge's nervous habit, and how it becomes Josh's too.
Relationships: Serge Gnabry/Joshua Kimmich
Comments: 13
Kudos: 23





	the gentleness that comes

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授权翻译】the gentleness that comes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690706) by [V2O5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/V2O5/pseuds/V2O5)



> this is literally the first fic i've ever published idk  
> it's technically still josh's birthday so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ happy birthday josh  
> also yes the title is from a richard siken quote as if i couldn't be gayer
> 
> big thanks to anja for being. my joserge buddy  
> thanks to mari for reading this fic like 12 times before i got the balls to post it  
> thanks to bayern for winning the triple which finally got me to write fic for these dumbasses

Josh first noticed it when Serge joined Bayern. He looked over to see who was getting subbed on, and he saw Serge standing there, waiting for Franck to leave the pitch. Despite Serge’s attempt to project a calm vibe, Josh could tell that he was pretty damn nervous. He had his hands on his hips, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Finally, as Franck approached Serge, Serge took his hands off his hips and started to crack his knuckles. This snapped Josh out of his trance. How long had he been staring at Serge? Was it his business to analyse Serge’s body language? It really wasn’t, he shouldn’t feel the need to become an expert on the topic, yet his eyes still lingered.

It clearly wasn’t one of those “I’m such a tough guy, watch me go on this pitch and score a hattrick” knuckle cracks, Josh could tell it was him trying to relieve some tension. He’s known Serge long enough to understand that he doesn’t think like that. First, Serge stretched his fingers back with his other hand, then pushed down to crack his middle joints, and repeated on the other side. A shiver went down Josh’s spine when he realized he was grateful that he wasn’t close enough to hear the noises his hands made. He had always been somewhat annoyed by people who cracked their knuckles.

After play resumed and Serge played his minutes against Stuttgart (with a pretty good win if Josh says so himself), the locker room had a less chaotic aura than usual. The hum of the room was distant to Josh, filled with simple conversation with one another about everything and nothing. Josh heard Manu and Thomas passionately discussing which flower arrangement would look best as an accent piece for their dining table, Jerome and Rob playfully fighting about how Rob had once again “accidently borrowed” a pair of Jerome’s socks this morning; and he got lost long enough in the noise to not notice the footsteps that approached him. 

It gave Josh a small heart attack when Serge decided to plop himself on the bench next to him and let out an entirely too dramatic yawn. Then Josh hears himself speak before he even registers what he says.

“What are you yawning about Mr. I-Only-Played-Thirteen-Minutes?”

Serge gave him a deer in the headlights look, and just as Josh was about to regret every choice in his life up to this point, Serge let out a laugh that cut through all the noise in the room. Josh’s heart gave out a flutter as he laughed too. Maybe he should get that checked out. 

“It’s emotionally and physically taxing to be in your presence Josh,” Serge said while wiping the tears of laughter out of his eyes. “My body’s just reacting to your mere presence.” 

Josh swatted Serge’s arm in response as everyone began to file out of the room, endlessly excited to get back to Munich. As they got onto the team bus, Serge offered Josh an earbud and a blinding smile.

* * *

As games and practices wound down for winter break, Serge’s car became a frequent staple in Josh’s driveway. More than most of the time, the two of them would watch a movie and order takeout, but occasionally they would cook stuff that wasn’t possible to screw up.

After finishing some shitty TV movie, Josh got up to throw away the beer bottles that had been accumulating on the table, all while Serge babbled non-stop about how they could have spent an hour and a half doing something more fun. Josh rolled his eyes the whole way into the kitchen, and immediately knew Serge was following because he could hear the pop of his fingers. 

“Why do you even do that, Sergi?”

“Do what?” Serge looked confused as he walked in to connect his phone to his bluetooth speaker in the kitchen. 

Josh pointed at his hands, and after another moment of confusion, Serge realized what his friend meant.

“Oh, I’m not sure where I got it from. Nervous habit I guess, or just if my fingers are bothering me.” Serge finished his statement by popping a joint right next to Josh’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. 

When Serge’s music began to play, Josh passed him another beer and hopped onto Serge’s kitchen counter to watch him cook. It was nothing fancy, but the two of them knew how to make a bottled pasta sauce taste homemade. While he waited for the pan to get hot, Serge filled a pot with water and put it on the burner. 

Serge’s playlists were probably the most eclectic ones Josh had ever heard. He put absolutely anything on them, and some of the vibe shifts were insane to experience. Serge got into the groove of things after the fourth song, and Josh was tempted to pull out his phone and film him for his close friends story on Instagram.

Perched from his spot on the counter, Josh watched Serge dance around the kitchen as he dumped the pasta into the finally boiling pot of water. As what was probably the third ABBA song they heard that night faded out, Serge threw out the empty pasta box. He turned around dramatically to say something, only for him to recognize the opening notes of Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy. Mid-sentence, Serge made a face of realization, and began to dance as he made his way over to Josh. He extended his hands for him to take, and pulled Josh off the counter.

“What are you doing?”, Josh had a curious look on his face, as Serge placed one of Josh’s hands on his shoulder.

“What, you never learned how to dance properly?” Josh shrugged in response, he’d never really had a reason to learn.

“Well I won’t let you stand on my feet. When I step forward, you step back, then you just mirror how I move. Trust me, it’s easy.”

Then he smiled, and Josh realized that he would break his own leg if Serge asked him to and then smiled like that. Serge clasped their hands together, and stepped forward just as the music sped up.

While suddenly feeling embarrassed at the quality of his dancing, Josh noticed how relaxed Serge was. His feet seemed to float across the tiled floor, he danced like a natural. Josh had stumbled and slipped more than a few times since he was wearing socks while on tile, but it seemed that Serge was too absorbed in singing to notice. He was honestly surprised at how fast he’d gotten the routine down. Step back, step left, feet together, then repeat with flipped directions. Although he had gotten it quickly, he had been looking at his feet for most of the first chorus, making sure that he didn’t step on Serge’s feet. When he finally picked his head up and looked at Serge, Serge began to laugh through his loud singing while Josh blushed at their sudden eye contact.

Serge’s face felt impossibly close to Josh’s as the second verse started. It didn’t help that Serge had his hand placed on the small of his back too. He and Serge had been inseparable as soon as Serge had arrived at Säbener, which had naturally involved teasing from pretty much all of their friends on just how close they were. In this moment, Josh realized that maybe they had a point, but maybe now wasn’t the best time to think about it. While Josh processed this new information in his mind, Serge spun him around and caught him in a dip. 

Looking up at Serge’s face, Josh began to laugh. At first it was just a slight chuckle, but as Serge laughed too, both of them fell into near hysterics. After he was put right side up, Josh began to sing along to the bridge with Serge, and he gripped Josh’s hand tighter as their dance began to speed up. As the guitar solo ended, Josh had to try to tighten his hold on Serge’s shoulder because of how fast they were trying to dance. When he let go of Serge for a moment, Josh failed to notice that he was going in to dip Josh once again. In the second he began to fall, Josh flailed and grabbed onto Serge’s forearm, pulling him down too.

Falling onto Serge’s kitchen floor felt like both an hour and a second according to Josh. The first thing his brain recognized that he was on the floor, but the second was that Serge had fallen on top of him. Josh thought that Serge must have had this realization at the same time as him, cause they immediately fell into hysterical laughter. Josh struggled to catch his breath as Serge rolled off of him, with tears of laughter rolling down his face.

Josh sat up and offered his hand to Serge to pull him up, the pair of them still giggling while Serge wiped the tears off his face and stood up. Serge reached down to ruffle Josh’s hair, but Josh caught his hand and tugged on it to help himself up, popping one of Serge’s knuckles in the process. 

“You can already pop those again? I thought you couldn’t do it all the time.”

“I think it takes twenty minutes or something to be able to crack them again. How do you know I don’t have some superpower that lets me crack them all the time?”

“I’ve seen you try to crack them sometimes but it doesn’t work.”

Serge looked noticeably shy at Josh’s admission that he looks at him when he’s not noticing. Josh felt a moment of embarrassment as well, but he figured that of course he looks at his best friend. How could he not look at Serge when all he does is be distracting?

“Oh yeah? What else do you watch me do when I’m not looking-”

Serge was cut off by the sound of a pot boiling over. The two of them looked at each other, then to the pot.

“Oh shit, the pasta!”

* * *

Weeks and games passed at what seemed to be breakneck speed, and after winning the double, they’re playing and losing badly away at Frankfurt. As the final whistle blew, Serge saw Josh storm down the tunnel. Losing always hurts, but Serge has known Josh long enough to know that he’s definitely internalizing it right now. After the tie against Augsburg, and the loss against Hoffenheim, this was just the cherry on the frustration cake.

The atmosphere in the locker room was mournful, as if the team had just returned from a funeral. Serge had been one of the last players to get in, he knew what would happen in the locker room and he wanted to avoid it as long as he could. When he walked into the room, he scanned the walls until he saw what he feared. Josh was still sitting in his muddy kit, with his head in his hands and his wet hair dripping into his face. Serge sighed and considered his options, not even realizing he was starting to pop the joints on his fingers. As he looked down at his hands, he decided that he should go to Josh first. 

Serge knows how Josh is after particularly bad games, even after games that they tie, Josh gets irritated, but this was so much worse than a tie. Serge walked to him, sat on his knees in front of Josh, and placed a hand on his best friend’s knee. He heard Josh sniffle a little bit, and Serge was taken aback. He had never seen or even heard Josh cry, he could be intense, but usually he just fumed when he was angry. This was a new territory for Serge.

“Joshi…” suddenly, everything Serge thought to say sounded stupid.

Just as Serge was about to continue, Josh went to wipe his eyes with the crook of his elbow, but all he succeeded in doing was getting dirt on his face. Serge felt guilty for wanting to laugh a little bit. As he did this, Josh spoke so quietly that Serge almost didn’t hear him.

“Go away Serge, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Serge took this opportunity to take his other hand that wasn’t trying to wipe the mud off his face. He held it as if it was more delicate than a butterfly’s wings. He didn’t want to make Josh feel trapped, but Serge knew that he really needed someone right now. Seeing as Josh let him sit there and hold it, he figured Josh would let him stay there by his side. Serge slicked back Josh’s soaked hair, so that it wasn’t dripping in his eyes anymore. 

Josh peeked out at him from behind his right hand, still covering his eyes. Serge always secretly compared Josh’s eyes to an ocean. It’s so cliche, but they were blue enough to get lost in. Serge lost count of the seconds that he had been staring, and he kind of panicked while not knowing what to do, so he stuck his tongue out at Josh. He rolled his eyes, obviously trying not to smile, and went back to his wallowing under his hand. Serge decided to try something else.

“You can tell me to stop if you want, just let me know…”

Serge repositioned Josh’s hand in his, and started to pull until he heard his first joint pop. Serge repeated this on the rest of Josh’s hand, and then balled it into a fist and pressed, just to make sure he had gotten them all. Then he moved up to the joint closest to his fingernails, and he popped the first one.

“Shit, Serge, what the fuck was that!”

Serge looked around the room and saw about three-quarters of their fellow players staring at them as if they both had grown an extra head. Serge couldn’t help it, he started to laugh a little bit.

“Shhh,” said Serge, as he tried not to laugh harder. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it would hurt.”

Serge continued to pop the rest of the joints on Josh’s hand (with Josh lightly hissing and wincing with each crack), and when he was done, he linked their fingers together. Serge looked up at Josh’s face when he was finished, and Josh was staring back at him, resting his head on his right hand. Serge hadn’t even noticed that Josh was looking down at him the whole time. Staring back into the blue pools on Josh’s face, Serge moved their intertwined fingers to his face, and kissed the back of Josh’s hand. 

Josh started to blush and immediately looked away, while Serge giggled at how quickly Josh had become shy. Then Josh mumbled something so fast that even Serge couldn’t hear. Serge ensured that he replied so quiet that no one besides Josh would hear him.

“What was that?”

“Could you do the other hand too?”

Serge just smiled up at him and held out a hand for Josh to put his in. Josh gave him his hand, then moved off the bench, and sat on the floor in front of Serge. He had one leg folded in half, and the other extended out, in an attempt to get as close to Serge as possible. And it worked, Serge felt his face heat up as he felt their proximity, Josh’s face was probably ten centimeters from his, his arm resting on the bench, propping his head up. 

Serge begrudgingly tore his own eyes off of Joshua’s face, and got to work repeating his previous actions on his hand. He looked up at Josh before he began to crack the joint above his fingernail, and Josh looked at him and nodded, giving him the go ahead. 

“Does it always hurt when you crack your fingers there?” asked Josh, between whispered curses.

“I think you just get used to it, I told you, I don’t even remember where I picked up the habit.”

When Serge completed his task, he laced their fingers together. But before he could kiss Josh’s hand, Josh pulled Serge’s hand to his lips, returning the favor. 

“Thank you, Sergi.” whispered Josh

In this moment, Serge realized again how close they were. Before he could reply, or lean in to finally kiss Josh, Thomas broke the bubble they had created around themselves.

“Hey guys, we’re all leaving in fifteen. Go get changed, and save the bedroom eyes for after shit goes down this weekend.”

* * *

Then Kovac got sacked, Hansi replaced him, and it was as close to smooth sailing as they could get until March. Then everything started to go to shit. They started to think there was trouble coming when the Köln-Gladbach game was played with no fans. Then the trouble came when matchday 26 was postponed all together. 

In the weeks before quarantine started, Serge had been going over to Josh’s pretty much every day for two weeks, so Josh decided to offer his spare room. At first it was just a one day thing, but after Serge had stayed so long that he needed to go get more clothes, they silently decided to do it for a few more weeks. They don’t live that far from each other, but they reasoned it was just more convenient than Serge having to drive or bike or whatever back to his own place everyday. Then when quarantine started, they decided to make this a permanent affair until this whole thing blew over.

But Josh couldn’t figure out when Serge had given up the guest room all together and started sleeping in Josh’s bed. Josh didn’t care to remember, it was the last thing on his mind at the current moment. The two of them were sitting on Josh’s balcony on top of a thick wool blanket, it was freezing cold out, but Josh was just in his boxers, a sweatshirt, and socks. 

Spending nights together sitting on the balcony became their tradition when Serge started spending the night at Josh’s. When they had the time and didn’t have to be up early the next morning, they’d listen to music or watch Youtube on the balcony until one (or both) of them fell asleep. This time they were listening to Harry Styles's newest album in its entirety for probably the fifteenth time.

As Serge rambled on about the emotional intricacies and musical complexities of Harry’s work, Joshua had his head on Serge’s shoulder, and was falling asleep. 

“So does ‘hung up high in the gallery’ mean a literal art gallery? Or does he mean the balcony in a concert hall? I might have a breakdown about this.”

“I don’t know Sergi, that’s a good question, maybe you should DM Harry and ask him.”

“Do you think he’d reply? Maybe he would let me collab with him…”

Joshua laughed a little at this thought. Serge and Harry would probably get along pretty well, but Serge would freak out if he even knew Harry had ever thought of him.

“...Josh? Babe, are you listening?”

Josh honestly hadn’t been, he was too busy thinking of Serge dying at the sight of Harry having read his DM. But he realized that wasn’t what was important, his eyes shot open and he felt his cheeks get hot, despite the freezing air.

“Did you just call me ‘babe’?”

“Yeah, babe.” said Serge, through some laughter.

With his eyes now open, Josh could see that Serge was about to hit the DM button on Harry’s Instagram account. Josh reached out and grabbed Serge’s left hand, the one closest to him. Serge looked down at Josh’s head, and although Josh couldn’t see it, he gave him a blinding smile. 

“You’ve never called me ‘babe’ before…” Josh had a tone of apprehension in his voice, obviously dancing around a subject that hadn’t been brought up between the two of them before.

“Well I should probably call you ‘babe’ more often, seeing how you act when I say it to you.”

Josh started to crack Serge’s knuckles, the same way he knew Serge always did to himself. And the same way Serge had cracked his after the game against Frankfurt. The night was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, if it weren’t for the noise of Serge’s knuckles popping.

“So are we a thing? Like, together? I mean–”

“Joshi, we’ve been living together for like a month, and going on dates for way longer. I think we can categorize us as together.” 

Josh sat and contemplated what Serge had said for a second. When he popped Serge’s last joint, the one closest to his fingernail on his pinky, he realized that he might be an idiot. Josh let go of Serge’s hand, picked his head up, and kissed Serge sweetly on the mouth. 

As Josh pulled away, after planting another kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek, Serge just stared and smiled at him like he had hung the stars in the sky. A thick but comfortable silence fell over them that felt no different than the blanket they were sitting on. Josh settled back with his head on Serge’s shoulder and held his hand again. 

“So,” started Josh, through a prolonged yawn. “What were you saying about Harry?”

* * *

The Champions League final was definitely the best but also the most nerve wracking moment in Josh’s career. When he assisted Kingsley’s goal, he knew it had been a now or never moment.

In a brief moment of rest in the god-only-knows minute after some PSG player got knocked over, Josh heard Leon laughing from a bit down the field. After shaking himself out of his racing thoughts, he looked at Leon and found Leon looking right back at him, laughing his ass off. 

He wondered what Leon was roasting him for now. Leon was making some weird motion with his hands, and then pointed right at Josh, because he knew Josh was looking. As play was about to resume, Josh looked down at his boots and realized what Leon meant.

He had been cracking his own knuckles. 

Leon was never gonna stop making fun of him now, and when Josh looked up at the bench, Serge was visibly tense. And cracking his own knuckles as well. 

Before Josh could get caught up in the thought of just when he had picked up this habit from his boyfriend, he decided to save the thought for later. They had a Triple to win, and he wanted to remember every moment of the game.

* * *

After all the screaming, crying, and cup lifting, Serge found himself lying on the field with Josh. With his arm under Josh’s head, they talked about the game and what was in their future.

“You know, I saw you on the pitch popping your joints.”

Josh looked at his boyfriend and rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a bad influence Sergi. I’m gonna get arthritis in my hands now, just because of you.”

“Good thing you play football and not some other sport.”

Serge took Josh’s right hand with his own, and brought it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. Then Josh leaned in to give Serge a deep kiss, the two of them only stopping once their lungs desperately needed to breathe something in that wasn’t the other. Serge suddenly laughed, which made Josh start laughing too. 

They didn’t know where they would go from here, but they knew whatever happened, they would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u liked it 😳  
> i really said time to project my habits onto football players  
> this has been an on and off wip since like september so💕glad to finally have it done
> 
> if you have constructive criticism feel free to leave it but know i will cry reading it  
> if u want my joserge spotify playlist hmu


End file.
